Nightingale
by AnnaliseRose
Summary: Dante/Trish , Nero/Kyrie. After receiving a grim warning in the form of a photograph,the four are on the run, trying to outdo an enemy they do not know.it's better than the summary,really. Rated M just in case, for violence and descriptive lime in chap 3
1. The beginning

**Ok, so this was written in hopes of producing something with a deeper plot. it was just a random idea, let's see where the story goes (:**

**the **_"song lyrics"_** are from the DMC 4 sountrack, the song that Kyrie sings at the beginning (Out of Darkness). Beautiful song. The first few paragraphs came as I was listening to it (:**

**Alright. soo. enjoy!**

**I don't own anything , sadly.**

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><p>The music began to play, the rich symphony of strings filling the air. All was dark but an area centre stage, where the songstress stood, waiting for her cue.<p>

"_Listen to my voice… calling you… calling you out of darkness.."_

Two figures stood, cloaked by the darkness that had descended onto the world. They were the epitome of beauty, the personification of perfection- a handsome pair. Perched on the top of a nearby building, they watched the old church, their matching light blue eyes glowing like stars in the dead of night as their flawless porcelain skin soaked in the pale moonlight. To any human mind they must have been God's favourites, crafted with all the allure and elegance coveted by the mortal race. But only they knew what lay beneath the pulchritude: the soul of the damned, a life never to be graced by light; the heart of a demon.

"_Hear the devils cry of sin… always turn your back on him.."_

Each stroke of the bow was like an icy bullet to the chest. It was the kind of music that drowned the troubled soul and caressed the empty heart, a melody that could bring sweet warmth to the bitter cold. It was a symphony so rich and pure it could provoke tears from the devils themselves, even though devils never cried.

"Turn your back on him, huh? Devils aren't that bad.. not all of them anyway."

The woman looked up at her companion with glassy eyes, a soft smile only just visible on her beautiful face. "But they are, aren't they.." she whispered, turning her face to the songstress once more. The young girl was a vision of innocence; her features soft and sweet in a way that could only be produced by naivety. She sang each note with a smile; a simple, happy smile. The woman sighed. To be so care-free seemed a great blessing to her.

"It _is_ beautiful though, isn't it, Dante.."

"Yes, I gotta admit, it is. Such a shame. She's so young, so fragile.." Dante brought his hand to his belt, caressing his gun slowly.

"So pure. So free.." Trish whispered.

His eyes softened as he reached out a hand to touch her shoulder, pausing halfway before turning around sharply, in a split second, taking a step so as to block her from the view of the intruder. A third pair of blue eyes joined them, resting briefly on Dante's weapons.

Nero took a step closer to the pair, gun held out in front of him. His scaly right hand gleamed viciously in the moonlight, the brilliant blue a deadly contrast to the hard, cracked, black and orange. His eyes bore a dangerous expression as he eyed the older man down.

"You're very sharp, for an old man." Nero sneered. "Stay away from her, Dante."

Dante lifted his hands in mock surrender, a deep grin creeping onto his handsome face, his clear blue eyes gleaming devilishly in the darkness.

"Pfft. You're just as cocky as I remembered," spat Nero. "Only difference is, last time we met, I thought I could _trust_ you." Nero narrowed his eyes. "For old times' sake I'll give you a chance to explain yourself. Convince me not to pull this trigger. What do you want with Kyrie?"

As the half-demon opened his mouth to reply, Nero caught sight of a pair of beautiful blue eyes peeking out from behind Dante. They looked almost as though they saw through him, unblinking; unmoving. Looking at the sight before him, Nero imagined the tables turned; how he would protect his Kyrie, shield her, stand just as the devil hunter stood before him. Most of all, he knew he wouldn't die. Not in front of her. Never. Dante followed his gaze, looking down at the woman briefly before whipping his head around to face Nero once more.

"Credo would be rolling in his grave if he knew I killed a man in front of his lady.. But to protect Kyrie, I would." Nero gritted his teeth. "So you'd better start talking pal."

Dante merely closed his eyes and smiled. With one quick flick of his wrist he sent something slicing through the air. With lightning speed Nero reached up with his Devil Bringer, catching a small piece of card. He deepened his brow and glanced down.

In his hand was a photo of a small bird, plain and brown, with a reddish tail. Across the seemingly peaceful picture was a single thick red slash, made with a thick dry substance that was rough to the touch. The eerie mark sent a feeling of trouble deep in Nero's chest; it was like a sharp knife cutting through the calm. With trembling hands, Nero flipped the picture over. Written in the same substance was a message that read: 'And the nights grew silent.'

A rich applause broke out as the girl hit her final, beautiful note. Nero felt his senses numb as he struggled to make sense of what he knew but dared not to believe. He lowered his gun and staggered over to the edge of the rooftop, looking down on the angel that had brought light into his life. He felt a deep, uncontrollable surge from the bottom of his heart; an undying need to protect her.

"We need to leave, Nero. You, me, Trish and Kyrie. Now. Go get her."

Nero gritted his teeth, clenched his fists and gave a brief nod before leaping down below. He did not understand the significance of the little brown bird, nor did he care; but he understood the unspoken word between Dante and himself. He knew something was going to happen to his Kyrie, and he knew that he would stop it.

Trish walked over to the place Nero had stood and bent down to retrieve the fallen photograph. She gazed at the photo almost sadly, lost in endless thought, as she absent-mindedly traced the outlines of the bird with her delicate finger, cursed with the burden of understanding.

The Nightingale was never to sing again.

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><p><strong>Stay tuned for chapter 2 (:<strong>


	2. Run

**Just a little note, in this story it is decided that Nero and Trish have never met before, I mean in the game they didn't really meet meet. And Kyrie has never met both Dante and Trish.. ok?**

**Thanks everyone, for adding to favourites and story alert and of course for reviewing. 3 **

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><p>She ran. Ran as fast as her legs could take her. Ran like she had never run before. She felt her grip on his hand slipping as weakness came over her tired legs. She wanted to give up. Collapse. She couldn't go any further. But she had to; she knew it.<p>

She looked up at the young man who held her hand, at the orbs of blue that burnt a magnificent fire, pushing her, egging her on. She couldn't stop. She had to keep going; to battle the fatigue that was swallowing her whole. She fought her hardest, despite never having run so much in her life. She had to; for him.

Around her, the city of Fortuna was dangerously still, shrouded by shadows in the deathly silence. She didn't dare steal a glance behind her, for she feared they may be there. They could be anywhere. Lurking in the darkness. Looking for her.

Just as they had been before.

The small bag of supplies that was slung on her hero's back was all she could manage to gather before they had come. The black hooded figures had torn into her safe haven by the hundreds, infiltrating every corner of her home, driven by their thirst for blood. Although they were many, each hooded man bore similarities: each man was of strong build, capable of breaking the necks of their fellow men with a simple movement of their hands; each mouth was twisted into a cruel, grotesque expression, devoid of any compassion and sympathy; and each face was scarred, branded by violence.

She had watched in absolute fear as Nero had fought valiantly, trying to stop them from coming; but even as their disfigured bodies lay strewn across the floor, bathed in the crimson red of the blood of their brethren, more of them kept coming. He had decided there was no use in staying, that they had better run to be safe; so run they did.

She would never forget the sickening smell of blood that rose into the air that night. Nor would the empty, broken faces stop haunting her memories, their eyes blank and void of life.

They kept running, running to the edge of the city where they were to meet a man named Dante, a man she did not know, but a man she felt she could trust. She knew he had saved her before. If he had gone through all the trouble before, why would he kill her now?

Most importantly, though, she knew Nero trusted him. And she trusted Nero with her life.

She trusted Nero more than anyone.

A promise is a spoken bond, a bond to be honoured and never broken. Dante never broke his promises.

As the young pair reached the exit of Fortuna city, Nero's eyes scrambled wildly in search of the devil hunter. He held the young brunette close to him as he surveyed the area, remaining cautious; never letting his guard down. His eyes finally caught sight of two figures standing under a tree; one, that he recognized as Dante, was leaning against the great oak as his hands rested on a great silver blade bearing intricate designs of skulls made more prominent in the moonlight; while the other was the blonde woman he had seen before, her feline eyes looking straight at him as she rested a hand on Dante's shoulder. She was clad in a leather ensemble, with two guns holstered to her hips. Nero silently wondered if she knew how to use them. She flashed him a small smile.

Dante jerked his head as if to say "let's go", and turned to walk into the unknown depths of Mitis Forest, his beautiful companion following close behind him. Nero noticed her confident stride, with a slight air of arrogance comparable to that of Dante, and wondered if there were familial ties between the two. He had never seen Dante stand so protectively over another person, afterall.

Nero looked down at his Kyrie, her cheeks flushed a deep pink, shadows of fatigue masking her pretty face. His eyes softened to a warm, loving gaze. With the reassurance that they were no longer running alone, Nero swung one arm beneath his angel's legs and carried her, running ahead to catch up with his older two companions.

As they delved deeper into the foreboding forest, the night grew darker still. Though wary of the danger lurking in the darkness, the four set camp in a small clearing, sheltered by the canopy of the great trees around them.

Nero had returned from pitching the tents with Kyrie to find a small fire already lit. The bright flames danced rhythmically, blanketing the area with a soft, warm glow. Watching the golden light, Nero was overcome by an odd feeling of hope. He gripped Kyrie's hand in his. It was going to be okay. It had to be.

He gratefully accepted a can of baked beans from Dante, a small meal to sustain them for the night. Kyrie moved her spoon around but did not eat, her eyes downcast and distant, millions of thoughts flooding her mind. She jerked her head up as she felt a hand on her shoulder. The blonde woman smiled warmly at her.

"Eat.." said the blonde gently, the warm flames adding a marvellous tint to her skin. ".. and go to bed. Dante and I will take first shift. It's not like we sleep much anyway."

Kyrie smiled a small smile, traces of worry still evident on her youthful face. "There.. there are demons here, aren't there?" she asked, her voice quivering.

Nero opened his mouth to say something, but was cut short by the blonde's reply.

"None you have to worry about."

Kyrie looked to Nero, then back at the blonde. She looked down once more.

"All this trouble..I..I'm sorry.."she whispered. Her small frame began to tremble.

"Kyrie…" Nero started, putting his can aside and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. He rested his chin on her head, taking in the sweet scent of jasmines in her hair.

The blonde knelt down in front of the young brunette and took her hand. Kyrie looked up, her face streaked with warm, wet tears.

"Kyrie… listen to me." she started, her voice warm and soothing. "I need you to promise me something. Can you do that?"

Kyrie nodded, unable to speak.

"I need you to promise me you'll do all you can to stay safe. You are no trouble to us. Trust us. Trust Nero.." She looked up at the young man and smiled. "Can you do that?"

Kyrie smiled a little smile and nodded once more. Slowly, she and Nero rose from their seats, turning to head for the tents. Nero mouthed a little 'thank you' to the woman before turning to leave. As they were walking away, Kyrie turned to look over her shoulder at the woman.

"Wait.."she said suddenly. "What is your name?"

"Trish," said the blonde, smiling warmly.

Kyrie smiled as they walked to their tent, retiring for the night.

"Well," said Dante, placing his hands on his hips. "That was incredibly out of character of you."

Trish grinned in return. "Don't go spreading it around now, or I may have to kill you, tough guy."

Jest as they may, neither could deny the worry that grew steadily in their hearts, the worry of a threat they recognized but did not know.

They had an idea of what their enemy wanted. The worst part was they didn't know why.


	3. Innocence

**I'm back with chapter 3**

**This was pretty difficult to write, so please, please give me some feedback ok? If not to boost my self esteem then to improve my writing haha! **

**Also, I'm wondering if this warrants an M rating for violence. I think I should change it juuuust in case.**

**Thanks so much to The7thSin for all your advicee! I really really appreciate it, I hope this doesn't let you down. And sorry for not replying your PM, life got to me :/. A very very super big thank you also to everyone who reviewed my story: Elizamse909, Angelforever06, 88dragon06 & The7thSin. It's not much, but this one's for you.**

**Onwards!**

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><p>Traces of warm sunlight crept through the trees, triumphing gloriously over the darkness that was. A chorus of new beginnings broke through the world, its joyful bells masking the sullen undertones of reality. Though the fresh start brought a sense of hope to some, to them it marked the end of their first hurdle, and the beginning of many more obstacles to come.<p>

He sat on a lone rock, his rested eyes tracing the ground before him through furrowed brows. Where the light touched, he saw the thoughts of an unsettled mind, streaks of frustration engraved into the ground by the Son of Sparda's hand. The aggravated lines betrayed the man's seemingly cool exterior, the scribbles in the sand a dangerous reflection of the turmoil within.

Nero could not comprehend the situation, and by the looks of things, neither did Dante. He clenched his accursed hand into a fist and struck it to the dirt ground. Nothing made sense to him; and the blind trust he had to put in Dante made him uncomfortable, to say the least.

A soft rustling in the bushes to his right caused the young warrior to whip his head around, weapon at the ready. The morning breeze brought a stale warning; a warning the young man could feel on his skin and in his bones. Something was going to happen. They were coming.

As he turned to rouse the others who were resting after their shift, his eyes caught sight of the demon hunter stepping out of his tent, followed closely by his blonde companion. Dante stood with a God-like beauty in the morning sun. With his head tossed back and his intense eyes hidden by heavy lids, he basked in the warmth of the morning, his flawless form stunningly illuminated by the golden light. Not far behind the silver-haired hunter stood Trish, her blue eyes shining marvellously as she gazed at the clear sky, her face unsmiling. Nero noted again their striking similarities, and wondered briefly if this woman was Dante's sister. Although Dante had never mentioned any siblings other than his twin, Nero found the resemblance a little too uncanny to be a coincidence.

Maybe a relative on his mother's side. _'Yes, that makes more sense.'_

"Hey old man!" Nero called. "-something's coming..they-"

Nero's eyes widened in horror as he watched the scene before him. He froze in his tracks, unable to comprehend what his eyes saw.

Rebellion gleamed brightly in the sunlight as it sliced through the air, cold metal meeting soft, warm flesh. Thick red liquid oozed from where the skin was breached, drops of crimson staining the green of the grass below. The strong scent of iron that followed was sharp on Nero's nose; he felt sick to the stomach.

The woman fell to her knees, her beautiful eyes wide with fear as she trembled against the pain. Her shallow, strangled breaths seemed to echo eerily in the quiet forest as she gripped the grass tightly in her pale fists, unable to manage a scream. Dante raised his sword once more.

A horrified scream filled the air. Kyrie stood a few steps behind Nero, paralysed with fear, filled with disbelief. Soft, pure tears flowed freely from her kind brown eyes.

Dante turned to face them, a deep red splattered across his face. His eyes were devoid of expression as he licked some of the blood from his cheek, eyelids fluttering shut as he savoured its flavour. The woman lay at his feet, her back rising and falling in a sharp, quick tempo. Her blood stained hands reached out to the hem of the demon hunter's coat, her golden tresses strewn wildly and soaked a deep red, hiding the pain-stricken beauty of her face.

Nero stepped in front of Kyrie, shielding her from the violence before them. He clenched his teeth, flames of anger burning fervently in his cold blue eyes. It took all he had to not lose himself to his demonic side as the white hot rage engulfed him from inside, tearing through him piece by piece.

"Trish.." Kyrie whispered, her voice trembling as the tears kept coming.

"That's no way to treat a lady, pal," Nero growled, signs of fury marring his youthful face. He reached for the Red Queen, revving her up furiously. "Looks like I need to teach you a few lessons on that." He spat each word through gritted teeth, his stance strong and deadly, ready to kill.

"You wanna dance kid? Let's dance. I got nothin' to lose," said Dante lazily, seemingly fascinated by the light reflecting off Rebellion. "But lemme tell ya this; you're right. They _are_ coming. And if we're busy fighting, let's just say your songbird there doesn't stand a chance." The corners of his mouth curved upwards into a sick, twisted grin, ignoring the woman who gripped at his hem; the woman whose blood covered his shoes.

"Time to run, kid," he said, stealing a glance down at Trish's small, still frame. "They smell her blood; and lemme tell ya, they're hungry for it."

Nero watched in horror as Dante grabbed a fistful of her blonde tresses, forcing her head up to face him. "This should tell them," Dante started, running his warm, rough tongue along her blood stained cheek, "that I'm not one who has weaknesses to be taken advantage of." He shoved her to the ground once more.

"You.. you're a monster.." said Nero, trembling with rage. The chorus of heavy footsteps echoed in crescendo as they grew nearer. Nero hesitated, caged by a dilemma that held no right way out. He knew he had to keep Kyrie safe, but it would go against his morals to leave another human being, a woman, to die.

'_But Kyrie.. Kyrie always comes first..'_

"You're taking too long, kid."

Before Nero had realised it, Dante stood face to face with him, blue eyes meeting the blue of his own.

"Goodnight."

Nero felt the sudden blow to his head before his world began to be shrouded in darkness. He fought, struggled, to open his eyes, to see the world; to see Kyrie. To keep her safe. Through the small slit he managed, he saw the dark figures surrounding Trish, like a pack of hounds feasting on fresh meat. The scene grew further and further from him, slowly being left behind.

"Nero..?"he heard Kyrie whisper. She must be near. Safe.

At least the old man did _something_ right.

With the relief in his mind he forced his gaze back to the scene of cruelty and sin.

'_I'm sorry.'_

He could fight no longer. The darkness took over.

Oooooooooooo

Kyrie sat in the corner, her fearful eyes never leaving the Son of Sparda, who now stood by the window, passively watching the rain that pelted mercilessly onto the outside world. Every few seconds, he would glance up at the old wall clock impatiently, as though waiting for something to happen. She placed her arms around herself quietly, not daring to break the silence.

The motel room in which they sat was small and unassuming, its floors plain and uncarpeted, white wallpaper peeling from its dingy walls. In the centre of the dimly lit room stood a simple single bed, on which Nero lay, his chest rising and falling steadily. Though the modestly furnished room was a far cry from the comfort they were accustomed to, it provided shelter, and was not a likely place for them to be recognized or searched for.

Kyrie drew in a sharp breath as she saw the man turn to face her, briefly glancing at the clock before resting his eyes on her. She said a silent prayer to Sparda, willing for His son to be just as noble as He had been. Though she fought her hardest to push the scene she had witnessed from her memory, the cruel, cold expression and the sickening stench of blood refused to leave the corners of her mind. Kyrie shut her eyes and gripped the sides of her head in agony as she visualised the deep red that flowed so freely and the dying breaths of a young woman who had put her trust in a man; the man who had ended up slaying her. A young woman; not unlike herself.

For a long, horrible moment, all that was heard was the rhythmical drumming of rain and the steady ticking of the clock. Kyrie counted the seconds that passed, afraid to open her eyes, fearful of the demon hunter's intentions. She braced herself as she heard his slow, surprisingly light footsteps approaching.

She found her mind wandering to days long past, when she was but a child, sitting in the large garden of her home with her brother. Credo would often tell her stories of the Great Sparda and how he had sacrificed himself for the betterment of mankind; the ultimate story of good triumphing over evil. Those old legends always filled her young heart with so much hope, and she would listen intently, wide-eyed and immersed, even though her brother must have told them to her dozens of times. How she longed for those carefree days, for the warmth of the morning sun and her brother by her side; for the amazement in legends of suspense and adventure made perfect by loving company and the smell of freshly cut grass.

'_Oh Credo..'_ Kyrie thought sadly. Perhaps she would join him soon.

She waited for the final strike. Nothing happened.

Slowly, Kyrie mustered the courage to open her eyes. As the world around her came into focus, she saw Dante kneeling before her, his handsome face level with hers. It was hard not to be lost in his mysterious eyes; a deadly advantage the Son of Sparda possessed. Kyrie flinched as he reached into his coat pocket. To her surprise, he pulled out something wrapped in tissue paper and held it out to her.

She eyed the package cautiously, afraid of its contents and even more fearful of angering the demon hunter.

Dante furrowed his brow, a slight hint of a smile creeping up in the corners of his mouth.

"Geez," he started, his features softening slightly. "I must have really freaked you out huh."

He began to unwrap the parcel, revealing a modest sandwich. The familiar scent of tuna wafted in the air.

"You gotta eat _sometime_ ya know.. Here, look." Dante tore a small piece off the corner of the sandwich and proceeded to eat it. "See? No poison. It's just a sandwich."

Kyrie hesitantly took the meal from him, eyes still reflecting absolute fear. Dante smiled.

"There you go." He looked at the clock once more, heaving a great sigh.

It was only 3 pm.

He sat himself down in a corner, losing himself to his deepest thoughts. He held the photographed bird in his hand, pondering the clues he currently had.

He hardly had anything at all.

Ooooooooooo

Dante felt the impact of his head against the cold, hard floor. Through the sudden pain he tried his best to orientate himself. He opened his eyes. When had he given in to the cold clutches of slumber?

He was never one to simply doze off.

Above him, cold, angry eyes glared dangerously in the dark, accompanied by a faint blue glow around hideous cracked scales. The attacker bared his teeth in rage before delivering another blow to Dante's face.

"Nero!" Kyrie's voice echoed from somewhere in the room.

Dante groaned deeply, passively taking all the hits Nero delivered. He felt the intense weight of exhaustion coming over him. He squinted in the dark, trying to read the wall clock.

It was 9 pm.

"You were out for quite some time, eh kid?" he groaned.

"You fucking murderer," Nero growled angrily. He grabbed Dante by the collar, striking him roughly against the wall. "What do you know that we don't? Are you with them too?"

Dante merely stared into the young man's eyes, his face stoical and expressionless.

" 'you gonna pick us off one by one? Huh?" Nero snarled. He felt the rage pulsing through his veins, taking over his being. The shameless sacrifice of the innocent was unforgivable, as was the blatant disregard for human life. He slammed Dante to the wall once more. "She was _family_ wasn't she?"

A shadow of a smile appeared on the older man's face as he rolled his eyes lazily.

"Family? You don't know nothin', kid." He pushed Nero off him, straightening himself up and cracking his knuckles. "Look. I don't have time to play. Go get yourself some grub. You should be safe here. Can you handle that?" He turned to the door and left before Nero could do any more.

Oooooooooooooooooo

The night was cold and damp, the last droplets of rain trickling slowly from the sky. The moon cast a soft glow onto the world, lulling the people below into a false sense of serenity.

Dante stood in a small clearing at the edge of the little town, looking down at the soft shadows cast by the trees that surrounded him. He lost himself in endless thought, overwhelmed by the night breeze caressing his skin and the scent of wet grass filling his senses. He closed his eyes, taking in the subtle sounds of nature.

"We meet again, Son of Sparda," a voice called out.

Dante's eyes shot open, looking deep into the shadows. As his eyes fell upon the figure before him, he sighed, filled with relief.

"What took you so long?" he whispered softly.

"I thought it would be better if I had Sparda, so I went to get it. Didn't miss me _too_ much, did you?"

A sudden surge of emotion flooded Dante as he eyed the figure, longing and relief washing over his being. He felt as though he was breathing freely for the first time in what felt like an eternity. He pulled her closer to him, tangling his fingers carelessly in her long, silky hair as he tasted her soft, sweet lips. He deepened his kiss forcefully, allowing his tongue to venture into the warm, wet depths of her mouth, sighing as he felt her suck on him, brushing her teeth playfully against him.

He relished in her gasps as he planted hungry kisses along her jaw, taking the time to nibble and suck hard at the junction between her head and neck, savouring her flavour, drunk with the scent of her skin. He sucked at her neck with an urgency he could not explain, the devil inside him going mad with lust, begging for more. His hands roamed freely down her slender back, digging into her soft flesh, until finally reaching the curve of her hips. The feel of her hands running through his sweat drenched hair only egged him on further.

He stole a glance upwards at her face; with her heavily lidded eyes so sultry and lustful, and her lips just that little bit parted, she looked more beautiful than ever before. The shadows of the night added a mysterious allure to her already stunning beauty. Playfully, he brushed his lips along the length of her collarbone, his breath warm against her skin.

Dante sat himself down on the rock behind him, pulling her onto his lap, enjoying the magic of her lips on his neck as her hands wandered along his strong, broad chest. The tiny sparks of electricity she sent jolting through him almost pushed him over the edge, exciting every raw, aching nerve in his body. He ran his rough tongue over her soft, ample bosom, his fingers dangerously teasing the lightning-shaped zipper of her black leather corset…

They lost themselves in a tangled mess of passion and desire, witnessed only by the lonely moon and distant stars…and three orbs that glowed eerily in the night sky.

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><p><strong>(:<strong>


	4. Endless Song

**Soo.. I'm wondering if i should just abandon this. i mean, i've got a story planned out, but the more chaps i write.. i dunno. what do you think? I'm in the midst of writing the next chapter so i probably will post a chapter 5, but i don't know if i should continue with this. sighhh.**

**on a brighter note, thanks for reviewing everyone (:**

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><p>Nero jumped at the turning of the doorknob, sword at the ready. He stood protectively in front of Kyrie, waiting for the appearance of Dante's form from behind the door, waiting to finish what he started. Though he'd had two hours to cool down Nero still remained wary; he was not one to let his guard down.<p>

Especially when he felt his trust was being betrayed.

He tightened his grip on the Red Queen as he heard the muffled sound of Dante's voice. Who was the man talking to? Had he brought others to finish them off? Simply rob them of their lives, like trapped rats, with nowhere to run?

'_Hmmph.'_ Nero thought. _'Fat chance.'_

Nero charged at the slightest creak of the door. As he saw the figure that emerged, he forced himself to a sudden halt, his blade a mere few inches from piercing the woman's body.

"Nice to see you too, Nero," said Trish, touching the tip of the Red Queen, caressing the cold metal. "I never got the chance to tell you; this is a beautiful sword. Just… lovely."

She winked at him.

"Trish!" Kyrie gasped, clasping her hands in relief. In all the marvellous charm of innocence, Kyrie only felt happiness, never finding it in her mind to doubt or question. She moved to embrace the older woman, stopped only by Nero, who held out his arm in a signal for her to get back.

Nero stared at the intruder for a few moments, eyes wide with disbelief. He had had enough surprises for his liking. He was angry, frustrated at knowing so little, at being so confused. His eyes darted from Trish to the unmistakable form of Dante, who had appeared behind her.

"What's going on here?" he demanded, eyes never leaving the two.

"Whoa, kid, cool down!" Dante started, lifting his arms in surrender. "Look, she's alive, see? She's fine. We just had to pull that little stunt to throw those guys off track.. and get some info while we're at it."

Dante saw Nero bare his teeth in an angry growl. Swiftly, he turned and pointed to Trish. "It was _her_ idea!"

"We felt them coming. It was in the air that morning…" said Trish calmly, staring at Nero, eyes unblinking. "We had to do something."

Nero stared at her flawless form, at her skin that looked soft and untouched, at her face that bore no sign of pain. She stood before him, hauntingly beautiful, seemingly back from the dead. He didn't understand. He had seen the thick volumes of red gushing from her. He had smelt the sickening scent of spilt blood. It didn't add up.

His eyes rested on the large weapon she had slung on her back. She carried it as though it was weightless, though the weapon was possibly bigger than she was. While it was not an impossible feat for humans, this, coupled with her lack of scars set off an alarm in Nero's mind.

There had been so many of them around her. She should not have made it here at all.

"What.. are.. you..," he hissed. He doubted she was nothing more than a skilled human fighter. There was definitely something else.

"She's a devil. Through and through," said Dante, running his fingers swiftly through her hair. He laughed heartily. "Not some 'mangy half-breed' like I am, eh Trish?"

The woman remained silent and gave him a small smile, eyes flickering devilishly at their inside joke.

"And looks like her healing factors worked like a charm! Hah! Didn't hurt you too much, I hope."

"It stung, you bastard. But.. nothing I couldn't handle I suppose." Trish brought her hand to Dante's face, tracing the line of his jaw. "Oh and licking my blood? Nice touch, baby."

The corners of Dante's mouth crept into a smile as his eyes gleamed mischievously. He turned his attention to Nero and Kyrie, who looked shell-shocked and completely lost. "Come on, kid. Don't look so surprised!"

Kyrie stifled a small gasp as she clasped her hand to her mouth, wide-eyed and afraid. She wore a betrayed expression, tears threatening to escape from her misty eyes. _'Devils are bad,'_ she thought, recalling all that she had been taught since she was a child. _'We praise the Lord Sparda for sealing them away.'_

It was a simple teaching: devils brought evil to the goodness of humanity. _'We follow the path of good and turn our backs on evil. Always turn your back on the devil. Good always triumphs over evil.'_

She turned her gaze to Nero's arm, held out in front of her. Nero, her Nero, too, was part devil; and he was more human than anyone else she had ever known. Sanctus, who had not only been human, but was their so-called religious leader, turned out to be as evil as the devil, if not worse.

Was the world really as simple as good vs. evil?

"Trust me, kiddo, I'm not _that_ bad," said Trish, licking her lips playfully. "Besides, it's not like I'm _hiding_ anything. Who do you think started our campfire?" She snapped her fingers, displaying a small spark at her fingertips.

"It's _you_ that have not been honest with _us_," she concluded.

Nero stood angrily, furrowing his brow, staring at the duo before him. He found it exceedingly difficult to trust this woman. She was nature's most cruel creation, a cold-blooded killer disguised by beauty and the soft touches of feminity. He had never seen another demon like her. Her very being was a secret weapon; a sick joke.

And now she had the audacity to imply that _he_ was hiding something.

"They're looking for the Endless Song. You know about it, don't you?" It was more of an allegation than a question. She placed her hands on her hips, eying Nero and Kyrie accusingly.

Nero froze in confusion. What was this demon talking about? He knew of the Endless Song, every child in Fortuna City did. He had heard of it many a time in old legends; legends he never paid any particular attention to. Even through his teenage years, Credo would constantly repeat those stories. While Kyrie often lit up at the chance of listening to those old fables, Nero found them to be boring, repetitive, and just plain unrealistic; he had always been sceptical.

If the damned thing held any significance at all, Nero wouldn't know it. For once in his life, he wished he had paid more attention to the nonsense they used to brainwash the children of Fortuna.

"You.. How.. What did they say they wanted with it?" said Kyrie meekly, finding it difficult to find her voice.

"Why? I don't know," said Trish simply, shrugging her shoulders. "See, I killed all but one man, and played with him a little.. tried to get answers from him.. I got that far, then he called me-" Trish took a look at Kyrie's innocent face, and decided to practice some responsible censorship. "-some not-so-nice things.. and he decided to spit at me.. That wasn't very nice, now was it?" Her eyes gleamed with a dangerous excitement, unearthing a glimpse of her natural murderous capabilities.

"So I let him join his friends."

Kyrie bit her lip, turning her gaze downwards as though wrestling the thoughts within her mind, deep in contemplation. Dante cleared his throat.

"Okay, rewind everybody," he started. "What the heck is the Endless Song? Am I risking my neck for some musical score or something? What, are these so called bad guys music critics?" He folded his arms, obviously annoyed. There were so many things he could be doing with his time. His favourite chair must be missing him already. And his adult magazines; his sweet, sweet magazines..

Nero opened his mouth to answer, but was cut short by Kyrie's reply.

"The Endless Song… is a stone," she started softly, never looking any of them in the eye. "Haven't you heard the legend of the Tears of Time?"

"Can't say I have. Pops was in the habit of making legends, not telling them." Dante chuckled, winking in Kyrie's direction, only to be ignored.

"2000 years ago, the Legendary Dark Knight Sparda performed a selfless sacrifice; not only defeating the evil Ruler of the Underworld, but also sealing the Netherworld from the Human World, trapping himself in the fiery gates of Hell in the process. He did this despite the hardships and danger it posed to him, because it was in his will to protect the world of Humankind from the clutches of Darkness, Evil and Chaos.

"As his actions were heroic and his intentions pure, it is said that the very substance of Time itself wept at the beauty of the Dark Knight's act, the act of saving the Human race. These tears-the purest of tears- held the long forgotten voices of souls past, present and future.. As the tears fell and pooled they formed a solid crystal, a magical stone infused with a strong magic, with the power of the Unknown, from the voices of the forgotten souls. This treasure, which became known as the Endless Song, was passed down from generation to generation by the people of Fortuna, whose city lay on top of the Hell Gate Lord Sparda had sealed."

She spoke each word clearly and in a manner which was well-rehearsed, as though repeating word-for-word something she had been taught many times over. She gave a small sigh before delivering her final sentence.

"And so we give thanks to the Great Sparda, for even Time wept at His great sacrifice; a sacrifice to save us all." Kyrie finished her story ceremoniously, with her hands clasped together in prayer and her head bowed down, albeit in a low whisper.

"Kyrie.." Nero began. "That's just.. a legend. I don't think the stone really exists. I mean the Tears of Time? I think that part is just made up.." He made an effort to keep his voice soft and comforting; he would rather die than be the one to hurt his Kyrie. "Besides, even if it did exist, wouldn't it be in our museum or national vault or something? Why are they coming after us?"

"Because somehow… I think they know," said Kyrie, her voice trembling. She placed a hand at her neck, pulling out a gold chain she hid beneath her high collared dress.

A deep purple stone hung at the end of the chain, shining brightly in the light. Its edges were smooth and circular, standing proudly in the centre of a pendent shaped like a golden bird.

"Kyrie.. what-" Nero started.

"This is the Endless Song." Her worry was all too evident as she fiddled with the stone in her fingers, her eyes never meeting the gaze of another. "It is not in our practice at Fortuna to keep it in the vaults, for it would be too easy to locate. It has been passed down for generations… and as Credo was a general of the Order.. I was instructed to keep it safe."

She remembered the day vividly. She had been sitting on the old garden swing, singing to herself as she always did, basking in the warmth of the sun as she watched the beauty of flowers in bloom. Credo had come up to her quietly, lovingly listening to her song before making his presence known. He had bestowed upon her the little purple stone, reminding her of the legends and proving its existence. Although initially doubtful and scared, Kyrie rose to her duty, comforted by her brother's words and faith in her. Their mother had once kept it, long ago; now it was her turn.

"Ookay,"said Dante, cocking his head in thought. The sound of his voice jerked Kyrie out of her day dream. "What do you suppose they want with it? I mean, if your own citizen here doesn't know about the stone," said Dante, grinning in Nero's direction before continuing, "then how do these guys know so much?"

Nero scoffed and rolled his eyes lazily . There was no way that stone could have held any power. He was sure of it. They were just stories after all. Brainwashing material.

"Just because I don't give a rat's ass doesn't mean other people don't. They're probably from a psycho fanatic cult or something."

"I don't think you're too far off there, kiddo."

Trish dug her hands deep in her pockets, retrieving a bulky looking ring. She held it up for them to see. It bore a large stone, onto which was carved a simplistic figure of what appeared to be a fox's head, with two swords crossed behind it. Engraved below the emblem were a series of symbols, its curves and lines entirely foreign to anything they had ever seen before.

"What.. what is that?"said Nero, squinting. "Some kind of code or something?"

He wasn't very fond of puzzles. He could feel his blood pressure rising already.

"It's an old demonic language,"said Trish coolly, running her fingers across the carving. "One used long before my time." She turned her gaze to Dante, her lips forming a seductive smile. "I don't suppose _you_ can read it, _can_ you, _Son of Sparda_?" Her tone was playful; teasing. She twirled a lock of his hair around her finger as the man took the ring from her, seemingly pausing to think.

"Hmmm," he started, looking down as though deep in concentration. "Nope, don't think so, babe. He wasn't around to teach me very much. You know, like how to use a _sword_.." He winked at her, remembering her little taunt to him many years ago. "Where'd you get this from, Trishie?"

Quietly displeased with his choice in nickname, she simply replied: "I cut it off one of their hands. They all wore one just like it."

Kyrie looked horrified at her answer.

"Okay, well it's gotta mean something then," said Nero, tapping his foot impatiently. "How do we find out? Don't you have any demon friends? Siblings interested in this shit maybe?"

Trish scowled at him.

"I've seen those symbols before.." said Kyrie quietly. The room fell silent as they turned their gaze to her. She looked up at them shyly, her cheeks flushing a slight pink.

"In a book, of course.. I'm sure we could find some on it in a library.. there should be one in this town right?"

"Yeah,"said Dante, placing his hands on his hips, his soft tresses bouncing as he nodded. "Yeah I reckon there should be one. Not fond of libraries myself.. but it's worth a shot." He grinned sheepishly. " We should be safe here for tonight, then tomorrow-"

Dante paused mid-sentence, turning to look at the door.

"What? What is it?" Nero began. Dante brought his finger to his lips, signalling them to silence themselves. His gaze never left the door.

A small smile graced Trish's lips as she reached for the Sparda, her other hand still lazily placed on her hip. "So much for sleep tonight, eh Dante?"

Nero followed Dante's gaze. Slowly, he saw the doorknob turn.

A lone man appeared from behind the door, dressed in a pair of black trousers coupled with a crisp white shirt, bearing the simple logo of the motel.

"Could I interest you in some dinner, sir?" said the man, looking down, his face hidden by the cap that he wore.

Before Nero could fathom his words, a gunshot broke through the air. Dante stood proudly, smoking gun in hand, as the man slumped into a pool of his own blood.

"What the hell are you doing?" asked Nero angrily.

"Brace yourself, kid."

The sound of heavy footsteps filled the corridors as the all-too-familiar troop of hooded men tore through the room. "How'd they know we were here?" Nero stood his ground in front of Kyrie. "Stay close, Kyrie."

As the men came closer he reached out with his Devil Bringer, grabbing them before crushing them to the ground, finishing them off with a shot of the Blue Rose. Occasionally, he charged forward with his sword in hard, careful never to get too far from Kyrie. He took care of all of those who came too close. He knew those so-called adults could handle the rest.

From the corner of his eye he could see Dante, moving as fast as lightning, slashing and stabbing at his enemies, seemingly enjoying himself. He wielded the Rebellion with an undeniable skill. At that moment it was made obvious why word of his devil hunting capabilities travelled so far.

A bolt of lightning hit the man Dante was about to stab, taking him down. Dante folded his arms in annoyance. "Hey!"

"Oops. Sorry, baby,"said Trish, winking at him. She pulled a man close to her almost seductively before slamming him to the ground and shooting him point blank. She threw the Sparda across the room, allowing it to knock down a few men before it swung back to her. Nero had been right about her; she was a cold killer; but she carried out her deeds with a horrifying poise and grace.

Although the men had an undeniable strength in numbers, they were hardly a challenge on their own, at least to Dante's standards. The demon hunter began to wonder the purpose of all this bloodshed. They continued to come, fearlessly, despite their comrades being violently mutilated before them, seemingly without thought. Dante began to doubt their humanity. Though their outer shells appeared human, they were probably a form of lesser demon, probably created by someone.

But why would they create demons that looked human?

He stole a glance at Trish, enjoying herself with the last few men, firing Luce & Ombra at high speed.

Whatever the reason, it wouldn't be the first time it was done.

Oooooooo

"What? That it?" said Dante, looking out the door, guns in both hands. "I was just getting'to the good part!"

The room was now silent, tainted by a deep red as disfigured corpses littered the floor. Most of their level was in ruin. A chunk of the roof and wall had been ripped off, exposing them to the night chill. A sudden, steady clapping was heard.

All four heads shot up to the hole in the roof, where a shadow stood, watching them. It took a step forward, revealing a man of big build, with eyes cold as ice and black as night. His presence brought an air of danger, his deep scowl signalling a cruel hatred. The emblem they had seen before seemed to have been carved on his face, the shapes now formed by old scar tissue. He narrowed his eyes at Dante, muscles seemingly tensing up beneath the black armour he wore. In a blink of an eye, he flung his sword at the devil hunter, only narrowly missing, thanks to Dante's quick reflexes.

"Hey!"cried Nero angrily, as he saw the man turn to leave. He fired a shot from the Blue Rose straight at the intruder's back.

The man leapt in the air, disappearing into the darkness of the night.

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><p><strong>you know you wanna press that review button.. xx<strong>


	5. Darkness Lives

**I'm baaack. For now. **

**Thanks for all the reviews and story alerts and favourites, those really keep me going. Happy New Year everyone!**

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><p>He flipped the aged, yellowed pages, taking in the stale, dusty scent of old paper. A pile of old books of all shapes and sizes lay before the young man, with topics ranging from demons to demonic history and culture. His weary eyes begged for rest; a luxury he did not have.<p>

The city library was a large historical building, with heavy stone walls and high, intricately painted ceilings. It housed an extensive collection of books, its halls lined with rows and rows of heavy oak shelves filled with material of diverse background and genre. Long, solid tables decorated its reading area, warmly lit by antique porcelain table lamps.

Nero couldn't care less about the books; if he had wanted to bury himself in reading material he would have considered a career in research. While the others forced themselves to dig deep into the mysteries of that ring, he found himself thoroughly engrossed in his thoughts, the thoughts that had bothered him throughout his shift the previous night. The face of the unnamed man remained etched so vividly in his mind; his haunting expression leaving Nero on constant alert. He couldn't believe they had let the armour clad man get away. He had so many questions- questions that man may have been able to answer. Questions that _demon _may have been able to answer.

It would have given Nero an intense pleasure to be able to beat the answers out of that worthless demon scum.

What did he want the stone for? What made him believe it could actually _do_ anything? He had looked powerful; he must have been a man of position, of strength. Why hadn't he just fought them? Was he reporting to a higher order?

Why had he singled Dante out? The confusion began to eat away at him. It was unbearable.

'_What did Dante have to do with any of this?'_

He stole a glance at his companions. Kyrie, his sweet Kyrie was thoroughly focused on what she was reading, her brows deeply furrowed as she flipped the pages, desperately searching for answers. Nero couldn't help but smile. She was adorable. He turned to the other two, who were not nearly as focused, chuckling and nudging each other over a joke of sorts.

'_What a bunch of kids..' _ thought Nero, sighing. He was no serious scholar himself, but they were more playful than he had ever been; despite being much older.

"Nero! You found it!"

Hearing Kyrie's exclamation, Nero snapped out of his thoughts, whipping his head to face her.

"What?" Nero looked down at the pages he had been flipping so absent mindedly. His eyes met with a series of symbols- not unlike that of the ring.

'_Well I'll be damned.'_

"Hah! Good work, kid!"said Dante in what sounded like relief, quickly getting up to keep the books he had in front of him.

Kyrie walked over behind Nero, leaning over his shoulder to read what he had in front of him. He felt the warmth creeping to his cheeks as he took in the scent of her hair, her face very close to his.

Trish's sudden rise from her seat interrupted Nero's little moment of heaven. She looked out the window in the far corner of the room, seemingly at something far in the distance.

"What is it babe?"said Dante, looking up at her from his seat.

"Looks like somebody wants to play a little hide-and seek," she smirked, pulling out her guns, resting one hand on her shoulder and the other on her hip."Wanna join me?" she said huskily, her sultry eyes meeting Dante's.

"What? Is this your idea of a pick-up line? Cause it's not that hard to get me in-"

"Are you serious? Who is it?" Nero cut in, interrupting Dante's playful tease. "Is it _him_? "

Nero's eyes lit with a new found energy. He had to catch this man; to teach him his lesson. He rose from his seat in a hurry, almost hitting Kyrie in the process.

"Looks like," said Trish, nodding as she turned for the exit. "Mr. Tall, Dark and Mysterious."

"You coming or what?" she called over her shoulder as she broke into a stride.

Dante caught sight of the fire burning fervently in Nero's eyes. Nero needed this more than he did.

"Hey kid,"he called.

Nero turned to him, obviously restless.

"Follow Trish; she'll take care of ya', " he joked. "Kyrie and I – we'll catch up."

Nero hesitated, looking from Kyrie to Dante. He stared long and hard into her warm brown eyes, trying his best to read what she felt.

"Go.."she whispered.

And so he did.

Oooo

Trish ran out the door into the square, catching sight of the dark figure peeking at her from behind another stone building, beckoning her to him. He stood fearless, his piercing eyes never blinking, never leaving her. He moved like the ghost of a shadow; each time she came too close he'd disappear, running only to reappear in a different place.

He was playing with her, leading her somewhere; and she was not afraid to play. Her air of arrogance told her she could take on anything he threw at her; and if she couldn't, she had reliable back up.

"Damn it bloody demon! Wait up!" Nero pushed to catch up with her, keeping himself a few paces behind.

She smirked to herself. _Very _reliable backup.

She followed his trail swiftly, her heels tapping lightly on the old cobblestone, leaving Nero behind.

She arrived at the front of a worn down cottage, which appeared abandoned; forgotten by time. Its shabby stone walls were overgrown with creepers, and bore holes and cracks bearing tribute to its lack of maintenance. At the front of its broken wooden door stood the illusive man, whose face bore a cold, lazy expression.

"Trish." He said, his voice cold as ice.

Trish raised an eyebrow at him, eyeing him down. He was no one she knew. His greasy jet-black hair was swept back, the long strands reaching just above his shoulders. He was completely dressed in black, his apparel a combination of metal and leather.

He took a step closer to her, his mouth twisting into a scowl, disfiguring the scarred emblem on his face. Trish remained calm, curious of his next move, ready to strike if needed.

"Well," she purred. "I don't know how you know my name, but I'd say now you owe me _yours."_ She winked playfully for effect, hiding her caution.

He reached out his hand and grabbed her jaw, roughly pulling her face closer, forcing her eyes to meet the cruel black of his own. She remained expressionless as she watched the hate that was plastered across his face; that burnt so vividly in his eyes. She saw him twitch as he tightened his grip on her face, his fingers digging deep into her flesh, sending a jolt of pain through her. She gritted her teeth. It was nothing she couldn't handle.

"Eblis." He whispered, his voice coarse and deep, his loathing tone never faltering. "Remember that name, worthless whore."

Trish moved her hand up slowly, preparing to give him the biggest shock of his life.

"Hey!" a voice called angrily.

Nero eyed the man furiously, holding the Red Queen out in front of him.

"Don't think I'm gonna let you walk away _this_ time!" he threatened.

As the man turned to face the new intruder, Trish took the opportunity to strike. She grabbed him by the waist, allowing the bolts of electricity to flow freely through her to him. He shoved her down by her face in retaliation; she only missed the ground thanks to her grace and quick reflexes.

Nero charged at the man with his sword, only to have him disappear as he reached him, reappearing behind Nero. The man raised his arms in front of him.

Sparks of ember appeared at his fingertips, coming together to form a magnificent ball of flames that danced in his palms. With a swift move he fired it at Nero and Trish, leaving a giant cloud of smoke in its wake.

Nero laughed a dry, cynical laugh. "You want a fight? I'll give you one alright."

Ooooooo

"Dante.."Kyrie whispered.

"Mmm?" said Dante, running his fingers through his hair. He had left the job of deciphering the message to Kyrie, leaving him free to relax for a bit. He would have done it himself, but since she had offered, why should he refuse?

She had written down each letter or word she had managed to decipher carefully on a little piece of note paper she now had in front of her. It was a tedious task, but she did it with a diligence Dante could not admit to possessing. He smirked and laughed inwardly. _'I could make use of this girl.' _ He knew a lot of tedious things he needed done; like cleaning his office, doing his laundry, ironing his clothes..

He looked at the piece of paper before her. Scrawled in pencil by her neat hand were the words:_ Darkness Lives._

Dante stared at the words for a few long moments. It didn't make any sense.

Ooooo

"Where the hell did he go?"Nero called angrily. "Run back to mommy, have you?"

The man, or Eblis, as he called himself, had put on a worthy fight, striking with natural skill. They had managed to corner him to the cottage, where he had fired another round of flames in their direction, taking the opportunity to disappear in the midst of the smoke.

Nero caught sight of the once-closed cottage door, now left ajar.

"Looks like an open invitation," said Trish, motioning to the door. "You game?"

"It'd be rude to decline, wouldn't it,"said Nero, walking ahead to the entrance.

The little room was dark and veiled by shadows, its unkempt interior strewn with cobwebs, the atmosphere thick with dust. The sparse furnishing was run-down and battered, the sofas were torn and the heavy frames that hung the walls seemed to have not seen light for years.

A loud chord struck through the silence. The eerie melody of a piano brought a sense of dread to the already weary room, its mood grave and sombre. The notes following the chord grew soft and fluid, only to be followed by another sudden forte.

"Where the hell is that coming from," Nero grumbled. He walked steadily through the dark room, searching for the man before, who was now nowhere in sight.

The music grew to a fast, hurried pace; building a steady crescendo before falling back to silence. Each hurried note brought a foreboding sense of trouble, a sense of unrest cutting through the calm.

Nero walked over to a lone frame that hung majestically on the far wall, its bright gold a contrast to the worn dark wood of the others. The old oil painting was that of a young family, beautifully depicted by the artist's hand, marred by a careless red slash that ran from one corner to the other. Nero reached his hand out to touch the streak of red; it was not unlike the one across the little brown bird. He dared not to think of what had become of this family, though he found himself pondering the possible link between them and his Kyrie.

As the ghostly piece continued to play, Nero studied the old painting, searching, yearning to know its significance. He took note of the pram, in which lay two infants. _Children; _ the purest of pure. He felt a deep repulsion as he thought of what may have become of them. The man in the photo looked influential and intelligent; his shoulders broad and his stature strong as he sat in the lavish armchair, his silver hair smartly combed back. Nero turned to the woman who stood behind the man, his eyes widening in shock.

Her long gold tresses flowed freely down her back, a silky fringe framing her beautiful face. Though her features were soft and kind, the warmth failed to mask her piercing blue eyes, and the strong familiarity she bore.

"Trish.." Nero whispered, whipping his head around in search of her. She was frozen in the corner, her luminous eyes distant and unfocused, her face unsmiling.

"Trish," he called again. "Is this you?"

If he hadn't known better, he would have thought that the painting was of Trish and Dante, though the man in the picture dressed himself differently, and lacked the character and mischief Dante's face possessed.

"Trish.. I think they want you dead."

All that was heard was the haunting melody that continued to play, now fast and dark. Not a single sound escaped her lips.

"Nah, take a good look. That's not her," a familiar masculine voice called.

Dante stood at the door, helping Kyrie onto her feet after having carried her all the way. He took a few steps closer to Nero, brushing his hands off at the sides of his coat as he walked. Nero watched as the older man traced his hand lovingly along the face of the woman in the portrait, his eyes softening in a way Nero had never seen.

"That's my mother," he whispered softly. "See there? That's me. Me and Vergil." He pointed to the pram.

Confusion was plastered across Nero's face as he looked from Dante to the portrait, and then to Trish. Trish, who was a demon; a demon that bore an uncanny resemblance to Sparda's wife. He doubted that coincidence had anything to do with this.

"What can I say," said Dante lightly, hoping to brush off any further questions from the younger man. "My dad and I have similar taste."

Dante chuckled softly, still looking at the portrait. "Right Trish?"

No reply came.

"Trish?" Dante ran to her side, cupping her face in his hands, brushing the stray hair from her face. "What's wrong babe?" His voice was soft, worried, and actually _warm._

Nero shot the older man a puzzled look. There didn't seem to be anything wrong to him; she looked as strong and determined as ever, yet Dante ran to her side frantically as though she had been in tears.

While the others heard nothing but an eerie melody, the blonde demoness heard soft undertones of fear in each note, the sickening cries of mercy in each crescendo. Each loud chord struck cold as ice deep in her being, visions of blood flashing in her mind's eye. She felt the agony behind each phrase and tasted the pure, sweet pain beneath its refrain. The cruel song played like a memory, a shadow of her past.

She was never afraid to kill. She savoured the flavour of blood. But as the final, strong chord filled the air, lingering tauntingly before softly fading to silence, she feared much more than a petty memory of death and agony.

"Dante," she whispered softly, gazing deep into his light blue eyes. "Do you know what song that was?"

Dante furrowed his brow, his intense eyes searching for the meaning behind her words.. "No.. No babe I don't," he whispered, studying her face.

"It's Beethoven," she whispered, her lips curving up into an almost sad smile. Dante felt a pang of worry as he noticed the emptiness in her; the fire that usually burnt so fiercely in her eyes had gone.

"Sonata Pathetique," she continued softly. "Lord Mundus used to play it during executions."

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><p><strong>(: Sonata Pathetique happens to be my favourite piece; I learnt it back when I was 14 :3<strong>

**- that button yearns to be clicked. ;)**


	6. She'll be waiting

" _Lord _Mundus?"

Nero's voice shook as he said the words, not willing to believe what he knew he understood. That single word was a sign of respect, a vow of allegiance. No matter how skilful a person was at keeping up the pretence of good he knew that old habits die hard. That slip of the tongue was an accident waiting to happen.

A demon was a demon, after all. He knew where their loyalties lay.

Mundus was the Prince of Darkness himself, the Lord of the Underworld, the Devil to whom humankind turned their backs to. He was evil personified, sealed away by Sparda's hand many years ago.

He was the reason the people of Fortuna revered Sparda so.

"I know about him," Nero cautioned, watching Dante's back as he held the woman in an embrace, a strong hand gently running through her delicate tresses. "He's-"

"My Creator," Trish whispered, her voice soft and gentle. Her vivid blue eyes peeked at Nero from over Dante's shoulder, the rest of her deceptively angelic face hidden by the bigger man's form. Nero could not read the emotion behind those seemingly expressionless eyes, but that confession was more than what he had hoped for. It looked like he did not require mind games.

"Hah,"Nero spat apprehensively. "I knew I smelled a rat. You-"

"Can it kid," Dante interrupted, not bothering to turn to face the young man. He seemed to continue his loving embrace, losing himself to the feel of her skin and the wonders of her scent. "We'll talk about this later."

His voice was much firmer than Nero had expected, almost like that of a parent telling off a child who was out of line. Nero clenched his fists and gritted his teeth; Dante had no right to brush him off that way. Nero had the right to know. He wasn't some child Dante could just brush off.

He opened his mouth to speak, finding himself silenced by the view that greeted his eyes: the barrel of a gun, pointing straight at him, while the steely blue eyes of the woman who owned the weapon glared dangerously at him from behind a strong, broad shoulder, wild strands of gold streaked beautifully across her face. In her veins coursed the cold blood of a killer, her icy cruelty reflected hauntingly in her sickeningly beautiful eyes.

Nero reached up for the Blue Rose and blinked. That was all he did; quickly, unintentionally- a normal bodily action he could not control.

A single gunshot broke through the air.

By the time Nero reopened his eyes, a trail of white smoke flowed from the gun before him, as well as from a gun Dante now held behind his back, his face still very close to Trish's. '_Two shots,'_ thought Nero. _'Two shots but a single sound.'_ Mesmerised by the precision and coordination of their shots, Nero took a full moment to register the thud that came from his left, and the fact that he was in no way injured.

He whipped his head around, searching for the source of the sound. There had been no one else in the room. Who had they shot?

'_The thud. There was a thud. '_

At Nero's feet lay a sight that caused the young man to jump. The figure was about a head taller than Dante, its grotesque naked form sprawled lifelessly in a pool of deep, red blood. Its now open jaw revealed a set of jagged, hideous teeth, its scaly arms ending in sets of long, bloodthirsty claws. In the middle of its bony chest was a single gunshot wound, through which passed two extremely precise bullets.

"Brace yourself, kid," said Dante, turning around, weapons at the ready.

Nero narrowed his eyes in focus and scanned the room. There did not seem to be anyone there. He looked harder, forcing himself to concentrate.

He saw it.

It was a small movement, a ripple in the air; a slight refraction of light, not unlike the tricks of the mind on a hot sunny day.

And then he _heard _it. The hurried scuffle of feet, the scratchy sound of claws against the wooden floor; sounds emanating from so many parts of the room that Nero felt sick just thinking of how many there were.

Another shot was fired by Dante's hand, and yet another demon was made visible, crumbling to the ground, succumbing to death.

Neo felt a jolt of pain in his side, as invisible claws slashed him mercilessly, avenging the fall of their brethren. Ignoring the searing pain, he grabbed the Red Queen, swinging it swiftly around himself, making a few more corpses visible to the naked eye.

A sea of hungry hands pulled Nero to the ground, wanting, _needing _his flesh. He felt a weight above his chest as the invisible beasts pounced on him, ripping his flesh with their steely claws, releasing the scent of fresh blood into musky air.

Nero struggled, fought- but to no avail. With each being he flung off him another would appear, pinning him down with the weight of their sheer felt his blood begin to boil. Through their transparent forms he caught sight of Dante, backing slowly as he fired his handguns in various directions, somehow guessing the whereabouts of each invisible being.

A feeling of deep pure panic came over him as he realised he had lost sight of everyone else.

He had lost sight of _Kyrie._

"Nero!"

Nero felt a deep nausea pulling from the pit of his stomach as he heard the sickeningly familiar scream. _'No,'_ he thought frantically. _'No no no..'_

"Kyrie!"

He screamed her name fiercely, terrified of what was happening to her, angered because he could not see her. He felt his heart pounding hard, threatening to erupt from his chest. He felt the maddening pulsations as warm, thick blood gushed through his veins. He took a deep breath; his heart continued to pound, harder and harder; faster and faster, until he could take it no more.

"Nero!"

A magnificent blue aura emanated from Nero's being, forcing the bloodthirsty demons off him, ending their lives in a blink of an eye. With the mighty blue beast standing tall above him, Nero angrily scanned the room for his Kyrie.

"Damn it! " He heard Dante cuss as Rebellion sliced through another demon.

'_No..'_ thought Nero bitterly as he desperately looked around the dark little cottage.

She was nowhere to be found.

Ooooo

Dante watched in silence as the younger man slammed his fist repetitively into the solid rock, reducing it to nothing but dust. He could see the agony in each movement, feel the pain in each strike. Nero was lost, angry, guilty- feelings Dante would have expected anyone to feel.

He knew what it was like to lose someone he loved.

Visions of the past flashed in his mind eye, playing like a movie without sound.

"Should we do something?"

The smooth sound of Trish's voice broke the cold silence, pulling Dante out of his thoughts, saving him from his darkest memories.

"Nah.. let the kid vent."

He turned to look at her; breath taking, beautiful, _alive _; though his mind would never let him forget the day he wept over her lifeless form. He would always remember her face, robbed of the strong character it usually portrayed, the dusty pale of her skin void of the charm of life. He reached out his hand to touch her, relishing the warmth of her skin, thanking the stars for the miracle that brought her back; grateful she was standing there before him; breath taking, beautiful, _alive._

"Dante?"

She knitted her brows, somewhat confused at his sudden show of affection. Dante smiled warmly at her, leaning in to kiss the top of her head, adding to her confusion.

"Nero doesn't seem to trust you babe, I'll handle this one."

Trish smiled a small smile and nodded. "I'll go see what I can dig up on this Eblis guy."

She turned away from Dante and broke into a run, leaping out of sight.

"Be careful babe," whispered Dante, though he knew full well she would be.

Dante walked over to the young man, still relentlessly pounding on what was left of the rock. They had moved to a clearing near the old cottage, in which now lay heaps and heaps of mutilated corpses, left to slowly rot. The stench of rotting corpses only intensified the sick feeling deep in their guts.

"Cool off yet, kid?" Dante asked, breaking the silence.

Nero looked up at Dante angrily, flames of agony vivid in his eyes.

"You," said Nero angrily. "Where is she?"

Dante furrowed his brow, watching as the younger man walked restlessly in circles. "You mean Kyrie? I don't know."

Nero gritted his teeth and unclenched his fist, in which was a note he had found in the cottage, white and crisp among the littered bodies. It was a simple message, written clearly in black ink: _ Tick Tock. She'll be waiting._

Dante followed Nero's gaze as the younger man crushed the damned note once more.

"They're playing with us Nero. I dunno about you, but I'm game," said Dante, chuckling lightly, oblivious to the fact that the humour was lost on Nero. "The only good thing is.. we know she's alive. For now."

Nero looked up once more, his face livid. He took a step closer to Dante, his eyes gazing straight into that of the older man, unblinking, unnerved. He lifted his hand and landed a quick, hard punch on Dante's face.

He grabbed a fistful of Dante's hair, forcing the man to meet his gaze. Dante remained calm, allowing Nero to do as he willed.

"No. That.._demon," _spat Nero, disgust evident in his tone. "Run back to the enemy has she?" He shoved Dante to the ground, his hand reaching for the Red Queen. "It was a trap all along, wasn't it?"

Dante rolled out of the way, causing Nero's sword to strike the ground. "Whoaaa. That was a close one kid!"

"YOU." Nero charged, sword at the ready. Dante leapt, kicking the blade of the Red Queen to reach a greater height before landing gracefully behind Nero. Nero spun around, only to have his sword caught between Dante's palms. He pushed harder, trying to free the Red Queen from the older man's grip.

"Look," said Dante casually, as Nero continued his futile attempt at releasing his blade. "She's not the enemy here. She's gone to dig up dirt on Mr. Leather and Chains."

Dante released the blade, causing Nero to stagger forwards. "Yeah? A demon _created _ by the Prince of Darkness himself, helping us? Pfft. You're off your rocker, old man."

"Pfft"said Dante, brushing his hands on his coat. "That's a lot of talk, coming from someone who knows nothin'."

"Yeah?" said Nero, reaching out to strike with his scaly arm to strike. "What don't I know?"

Dante leapt out of the way of each strike effortlessly. "Well," he started, grinning cheekily. "You don't know that she was created to _kill _me."

Dante hit each bullet fired from the Blue Rose with one of his own, feigning a yawn to agitate Nero further. "To _kill _you huh," Nero scoffed. "No wonder he knew her name."

The words caught Dante by surprise. He paused, a confused expression plastered across his face. Nero took the opportunity to strike, kicking Dante off his feet. He sat himself on the older man striking his fist to Dante's face over and over again.

Dante caught Nero's fist with his hand, catching him off guard. He threw the younger man over his shoulder, jumping up and pinning Nero down with his body.

"What did you say?" said Dante, his face very close to Nero's. Nero could feel the warmth of the older man's breath on his cheek as he struggled to free himself.

"He knew her name, Dante. He said it as she arrived."

Dante paused, his gaze fixed on something in the distance. He ignored Nero's struggles beneath him, as they felt the heat of each other's bodies, both panting heavily from their workout. Eventually, the struggling stopped, and Nero remained perfectly still.

"Feeling better, kid?"

Dante rolled onto his back, lying on the grass next to Nero. He sighed, taking Nero's silence as a sign of agreement.

"Good,"said Dante, placing his hands behind his head. "Now we can think straight. How does that freak know Trish? Old fling maybe? "

Dante chuckled to himself, only to find that Nero remained silent. He rolled onto his side, looking straight at the younger man.

"Look kid, you don't know Trish. I trust her. She-"Dante paused, searching for the right words. Nero turned his head to face the older man.

"She gave her life for me." He finished quietly, avoiding Nero's gaze.

"Wha-" Nero began, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"And as for Kyrie," Dante cut in, not willing to elaborate further about his past, "We'll find her kid. I promise."

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><p><strong>- press the button.. please? *insert big googly eyes here*<strong>


	7. Awake

**Hi everyone (: I'm back!**

**I know it's been a while,**** but with school restarting (worse than ever- uni sure kills you) I doubt I would be able to update as often as I used to. ): NOT abandoning anything though so please stay tuned (:**

**This may be a little weird cause I wrote it in 3 distinctly different situations (in my life).. lol.**

******Thanks so much for all the reviews, they really keep me going. And thank you so much for reading!**

**ONWARDS!**

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><p>She took another step in the foreboding darkness, her pace steady; the sound of her leather heels echoing loudly as they struck the cold cement. The dingy back alley was filled with the stench of rotting garbage and urine, smells that told endless stories of the neighbourhood's inhabitants, that caused her to crinkle her nose in disgust. For once in her life she cursed her superior sense of smell.<p>

Though the stillness of the air and the unnerving silence set off alarm bells deep within her, she continued her path, never allowing a trace of uncertainty to be shown on her face- her head still held high and her hips still swaying as seductively as ever. She had to be here. She was already out of leads- this was her last hope.

Her tired feet carried her to the end of the road, where all that stood was a tall brick wall, a dead end. She scanned the area in the deathly silence, her eyes glowing enchantingly in the night. There was no one in sight. It did not make any sense; she had followed him there, despite her instincts telling her to do otherwise; yet, there she stood, alone in the empty alley, accompanied by a symphony of unpleasant smells.

It did not make any sense; but through all her years of living, she had learnt that very little did.

A small, sly smile graced her lips as she grabbed the Sparda, swinging it behind her effortlessly. A yell of pain was heard; and then there was _silence_.

She turned to face her victim- hooded, and robbed of life.

She knew she would be meeting them again.

Hundreds of footsteps broke through the night. Weary from her fights and worn from travel, she pulled Luce & Ombra from their holsters, ready to get to work. She sighed, hoping, wishing for her efforts to bear some fruit.

She needed a lead. Every second she wasted could be Kyrie's last.

She could not keep track of how many she shot, or how many she took down with a single swing of the Sparda, but they kept coming, and she kept killing. She knew what she would do. Keep one alive, as she always did. Get the answers she needed.

It was a simple formula.

Though she could feel the exhaustion pulling her down, she kept going, not a sign of weakness visible on her face, on which she wore a blank, bored expression. They were no match for her. She did not understand the point of this exercise. It was exhausting.

Unless..

Her eyes widened with a sudden realisation as she scanned the area frantically, her skillfull hands still firing accurate shots, targeting the swarm of hooded demons.

'_No,'_ she thought. _'No.'_

A burning pain seared through her body as it ate into her flesh; the malicious flames burning each miniscule fibre in her being. In her moment of weakness they struck without mercy- hundreds upon hundreds of them feasting hungrily on her sweet flesh. She struggled to regain herself, managing to kill a few of them despite being pinned to the ground by their greedy stampede.

She cursed under her breath as she willed herself to push harder; to rid them from her. She placed her hand on the ground, bracing herself.

Large bolts of lightning emanated from her hand, killing the demons around her.

For a moment, none of them touched her. She looked up, watching as they took a few steps back, seemingly in escape.

And then she saw him. Clad in his dark leather, cold metal chains hanging ornately from his armour; his cruel face made more menacing by his grotesque scar, twisted by his deep scowl. She reached out her hand, ready to strike him with lightning. He grabbed her wrist in a swift movement and twisted it, releasing the white-hot flames that engulfed her once more.

She whipped her head back in pain. _'Fuck.' _She cursed herself mentally. She knew she was tired. She knew she was weak. She knew this was a bad idea. Yet there she was.

He grabbed her by her neck, his steely grip asphyxiating her. She raised her hands to his, trying her best to pry his cruel fingers apart, but to no avail, only causing him to tighten his hold around her. She struggled to breathe; she felt like she was drowning, cruelly robbed of breath by his hand.

He threw her to the brick wall, cracking the solid brick with the impact form her form. She heard a sickening crunch as she felt a warm, sticky liquid trickle from a gash in her head, caressing the smooth skin of her face, forming droplets of deep red on the ground before her. The searing pain in her neck left her helpless, unable to move her head. She grunted. Something was definitely broken.

With her head hung low, she heard the sound of heavy footsteps approaching as a pair of black leather boots appeared before her. She looked up as far as her eyes could. His cold, unsmiling face stared down at her, his dark eyes burning with a maddening rage yet filled with an insatiable lust. She felt a sudden, deep pain as kicked her squarely in the gut, watching with pleasure as she spat thick volumes of blood from her red-stained lips.

Time. She needed time. Time she knew he was not willing to give.

She tried to reach for the Sparda, but no matter how hard she willed it to, she could not move her right arm. There she lay, broken and helpless at his feet; like a ragdoll, left unkept, waiting to be played with. He smiled a despicable smile, straddling her hips, pinning her hands down with his knees. She bit her lip, trying her hardest not to scream in pain as he roughly forced her head up to face him. His smile widened as he heard her grunt and saw the flash of pain in her expression.

Slowly, he lowered his head to her neck, and bit into her tender flesh. Her pained cry filled the depths of the darkness.

"What's wrong, Trish?" he asked, his hand still cupping her face. His voice was cold, cruel, and dripping with hatred. "Does it hurt?"

Gritting her teeth, she glared into the icy coldness of his eyes, refusing to give in. She spat in his face, hitting him between the eyes.

He growled in fury, angered by her defiance. Roughly, hurriedly, he rid her of her leather corset, exposing her soft skin and full breasts to all who stood in the quiet alleyway, hooded and waiting for commands. Grabbing her by her hair, he shoved her to the ground, blade in hand.

Her anguished screams pierced through the silence of the night.

Oooo

Dante sat up in bed, his head pounding and his heart racing. He was drenched, beads of sweat soaked his hair and trickled down his bare chest. He found himself panting heavily, struggling to remember where he was and what had happened.

Asleep. He had been asleep. Dante squinted as he stared into the dark interior of his tent.

_What time was it?_

"You alright, old man?"

Dante turned to see Nero looking straight at him, genuine concern evident in his eyes. "You were thrashing about and sweating buckets. Bad dream?"

Dante stared at the younger man for a few moments, silent. He brought his palms to his face, rubbing his eyes as he groaned. "Y-yeah. You could say that."

He grabbed his shirt that lay by his sleeping bag and used it to wipe the sweat off his face.

"Wh-What time is it, kid?"

"I don't know, 3? Maybe 4-"

"T-Trish." Said Dante, cutting in. "Where is she? Is she back yet?"

Nero raised an eyebrow at the older man, unable to comprehend his sudden surge of worry. The unsettled tone of his voice and the genuine fear in his eyes betrayed his usually calm demeanour, and lacked his usual playful charm. For the first time, Nero saw the Son of Sparda being serious.. and genuinely _afraid._

"N-No," said Nero cautiously, eyeing Dante down. "She's not. Was she-"

Dante jumped up before Nero could finish his sentence, running out of the tent without bothering to get dressed.

"Dante!" called Nero, running out after him.

Nero caught sight of the older man staring out into the distance, moving restlessly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

"Dante-"

"I got a bad feeling kid." Said Dante, running his hand through his sweat drenched hair. "She should have been back. She should have been-"

He broke off suddenly, seemingly catching sight of something in the distance. Nero followed the demon hunter's gaze.

A lone figure staggered in their direction in the distance. Through squinted eyes, Dante managed to just make out the familiar silhouette.

"Trish!" he called, running in her direction. Nero followed after the older man, struggling to keep up with him.

Dante felt a lump in his throat as his watched the woman before him, his heart racing faster than it ever had in his life. Each step she took seemed to be a painful struggle, as she held on to the Sparda for support, limping, dragging herself along; her hips no longer swinging the way that drove Dante absolutely mad, her stride no longer confident and alluring. The soft, warm breaths that secretly kept him up at night were now jagged and sharp, as though each inhalation brought her immense pain, her laboured breathing a result of what Dante feared must have been a set of broken ribs. Streaks of blood framed her once flawless face, staining the sides he once caressed and the sweet mouth he often longed for. Her once soft, silky hair was a mess, the long strands of gold he adored now mixed with the sticky red of her own blood. Her shoulders were no longer symmetrical as her right arm lay limp and useless by her side.

"D-Dante.." she whispered, her voice hoarse, her head hung low.

Dante ran to her side, afraid to touch her, longing to hold her.

For a brief second, she glanced at her right arm, frowning, annoyed at her inability to move it. She forced herself up to an upright position with her left hand, using her beloved sword for support, quickly releasing her grip on the weapon to reach for the lightning-shaped zipper on the front of her ensemble. The leather corset fell effortlessly to the ground, revealing many a man's fantasy, framed by her golden strands.

"Trish. What the-"

Dante paused; his eyes adjusting to the vulnerability of her form. Though it took him some time, he noticed the faint bruises on her full breasts, the redness of her ribs, the deep scratches down her body, violated by another's hand. In a swift movement, she fell to her knees, supporting herself with her hands as she exposed her back to him.

"There," she whispered. "She's there."

Dante looked down in silence, his expression a mixture of shock and confusion. Nero could have sworn he heard the man growl under his breath.

As she pulled her hair away, Dante caught sight of the deep gashes, red liquid flowing freely from them. For a moment he stood at a loss for words, unable to comprehend her words, wondering why she hadn't recovered, unaware of how deep the wounds had been hacked into her flesh.

And then he saw it. Carved into the she-demon's back was what appeared to be a set of block-like numbers, formed by straight lines and jagged ends.

"Nero,"he called over his shoulder, not bothering to turn around. His voice was gruff and hurried. "Run to the tent and grab the pen and paper from Kyrie's bag."

Nero moved quickly, retrieving the necessary stationary and handing them over to Dante, who quickly scribbled the numbers down, shoving the piece of paper into his coat pocket. Swiftly, he collected the woman who lay at his feet, cradling her lovingly in his arms, watching as the pale moonlight caressed her sleeping form.

"Grab Sparda for me will ya,"said Dante as he walked away, his gaze transfixed on the treasure in his arms, never facing the younger man. Nero watched as the man made his way slowly to the warmth of the campsite, whispering softly to the woman in his embrace, revealing just a hint of his fear and relief despite his best efforts.

"Sure," muttered Nero, as the man drew further and further from sight. He felt the weariness sink in as he reached for the weapon that lay abandoned on the ground. He wished the games would come to an end. He was tired of being toyed with; tired of being a mere play-thing in the larger scheme of things. He gazed and the weapon before him and sighed.

'_Kyrie.. Where are you?'_

Feeling the presence of at intense gaze burning at the back of his head, Nero whipped himself around, scanning the area for any unwelcomed guests. His eyes met with the eerie glow of three orbs in the sky, burning a deep purple, its presence distinguished from the stars scattered in the darkness.

Nero frowned, reaching his hand out as though to touch the orbs that glowed so high up, giving in to his first instincts. To his surprise, warmth tickled his fingers as they danced across the purple light.

He jerked his hand away reflexively, a deep furrow forming in his brow as he eyed the mysterious light. Consciously forcing himself not to look away, he called for his companion, his voice echoing eerily in the silence.

No reply came.

Nero tried again, louder still, and again he was met with no answer. He continued to stare into the light, his eyes beginning to tire as he felt the weight of his lids ever increasing. Though he fought his hardest not to, he finally gave in to the basic human reflex, allowing his eyes to close briefly in a quick blink.

The significance of the orbs that burnt before him was lost on Nero; little did he understand what the being was made of, what it was doing, and what it wanted. Though Nero was now certain that this light was alive rather than inanimate he would never know of the things it had seen in its life, nor the things it longed for now. He would never know of the night it watched his older companions lose themselves to passion, never know of the hatred that burnt in its violet glow.

When Nero reopened his eyes the night was still and quiet in all its normalcy. The sky was dark once more, lighted only by the stars that swam endlessly in its deep blue seas.

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><p><strong>As the reader reached the end of the page, heshe noticed a button unlike any other. Suddenly, inexplainably, he/she felt a deep longing to click it and leave a review , allowing the world and the author a glimpse of his/her true awesomeness.**

**constructive critiscism is welcmed too (:**


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